


listening to silence

by sarcasm_and_sabres



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Horseback Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-08 23:48:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19878097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasm_and_sabres/pseuds/sarcasm_and_sabres
Summary: Warm weather, horses, a ranch, and pitcher/catcher bonding time. What better way to spend an offseason?





	listening to silence

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [symsonic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/symsonic/pseuds/symsonic) in the [boysofsummer19](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/boysofsummer19) collection. 



> Finally, my years spent on a farm have paid off. Tracey, I hope you enjoy!!
> 
> If you're tagged in this, please do the both of us a favor and don't read this.

“Hey!” Willy’s greeting Kyle with a hug almost before Kyle has managed to register him standing there. “You made it!”

“I said I’d be here, didn’t I?” Kyle grins and hugs his catcher back. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Willy shakes his head and lets go of Kyle, grabbing the duffel from his hand and starting to head towards the exit. “Just good to see you, man. How’s your offseason been?”

“It’s been nice!” Kyle says, letting himself follow in Willy’s wake. “You know how it is, always good to get time with my parents and Emma. And Max, of course. She meows at me like the world’s ending every time I leave these days.”

“Aw, she just misses you! Emma taking care of her while you’re here?”

“Yep. She said she was looking forward to some lady bonding time, which I’m pretty sure just means Emma watching Netflix with Max curled on her lap and laughing at the thought of me roping cattle.”

“Don’t worry, no roping cattle,” Willy promises. “Horse riding, yes. I’ll have to send her videos.”

“Thanks so much,” Kyle says sarcastically, but he can’t keep his smile back as he gets into Willy’s car. The offseason gets too damn long. Especially when you give up the game-winning run in the Wild Card game instead of even making it to an actual playoff series...

“Profe?” Willson asks, and Kyle shakes his head to clear it. No use dwelling when he’s here to relax and have a good time with his catcher.

“Sorry, what?” 

“I asked if you wanted lunch right now, or to wait.”

“I’m good with whatever you had planned. It’s Victor’s ranch, right? If he has a way he likes to do things—“

“Oh, he left for a bit,” Willy interrupts. “It’ll just be you and me. And a lot of animals.”

“Oh! Okay,” Kyle says, relaxing back in his seat. He’s got nothing against Martínez, but he doesn’t know the guy at all.

“Then let’s head back there and see what we can find for food, see if we need to go shopping later,” Willy says, and Kyle mutters agreement, digging in his pocket for his cell phone. “How’s Emma?”

Kyle laughs, unlocking his phone to check the message his wife had just sent.

“She literally just texted me, actually. She says she’s enjoying her cat time without a husband around making things annoying, but she hopes we have fun and said to tell you hi.” Kyle texts her quickly back and smiles over at his catcher. “So, hi.”

“Hi to both of you.” Willy grins as he merges over to their exit, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. “Okay with music?”

“Of course.” Kyle’s not a huge music guy generally, but it does get oppressively quiet at times in the off-season, in contrast with the three or more speakers going at any given moment with the team. Not that he’s thinking about the shorter than usual time spent listening to a deluge of music. Not at all. He’s just enjoying a vacation with a friend who also happens to be his teammate and catcher.

\- - -

Kyle’s just finishing unpacking his stuff in one of the spare ranch bedrooms when there’s a sharp rapping on the doorframe.

“Ready to go meet some horses?” Willy asks, leaning a little into the room. The off-season looks good on him—less tired, less weight of an entire pitching staff on his shoulders. 

“Just keep in mind the team would probably like me in one piece by February,” Kyle says. He shuts the drawer and grabs his sunglasses, casting a quick glance over the room to make sure he didn’t miss anything egregious before he steps out in the hallway with Willy.

“I like you in one piece always,” Willy says, gently hip-bumping him as they walk. “Don’t worry, they’re good horses. And I’ll protect you.”

“Do you have, like, body armor I can borrow?” Kyle asks, maybe not as jokingly as it sounds. 

“You’re an athlete, you’ll be fine,” Willy assures him with a smile. Kyle’s not really sure that throwing a baseball translates to sitting on a giant animal and trying to control it, at all. But Willy looks so excited and anyways, there’s no point of this trip if Kyle’s not willing to step out of his comfort zone a little bit.

\- - -

“Hello, girl,” Willy murmurs to one of the horses, pulling an apple from his pocket and neatly splitting it in half. He offers one part of it to Kyle. “Hold your hand flat, like this. Make sure she can’t get your thumb.”

Kyle transfers the apple to his left hand, slightly taken aback by the thought of horse teeth that close to the fingers of his pitching hand.

“Her name’s Pequeñita,” Willy says as Kyle tentatively offers the snack to the giant horse. He glances up at Willy when she snatches it.

“Small, right? Is she really that small for a horse?” He looks back at her and at the horse in the next stall over, trying to gauge their relative sizes.

Willy laughs, reaching out to stroke Pequeñita’s nose. “No, she’s a big horse. It’s a joke name.”

“Ah,” Kyle says, feeling a little bit better. So there are smaller horses around. Smaller horses seem better.

“She’s as sweet as they come,” Willy says, taking a bright green rope from the wall and ducking into the stall. “I think she’ll be a good one for you to start riding.”

“Hold on, what about one of the other, much smaller, horses?” Kyle asks, watching from the barn aisle as Willy puts something on her face and clips the rope to it. 

Willy doesn’t answer, instead leading Pequeñita out and stopping her right in front of Kyle.

“You’ll be fine on her, I promise,” he says, dark eyes as intense as he ever is with the bases loaded and a power hitter up to the plate. “But it’s better to ride in the morning, before it’s so hot. You can just brush her and get to know her today.”

“If you say so.” Kyle eyes the horse warily, but falls into step beside Willy as they walk. 

\- - -

Willy narrates what everything is as he sets up. Apparently there’s a halter, which is different than a bridle, and the rope is actually a lead rope. And there’s a million different types of brushes, which Kyle forgets the names of immediately. 

“Here, start with this one,” Willy says, passing over what Kyle thinks is a currycomb. “Brush her in circles with it, like this.”

Kyle lifts the brush to Pequeñita’s flank, lightly circling it over her hair. Fur? Hair? Which do horses have? 

He doubts Willy would know the difference between the two terms in English—after all, Kyle doesn’t really know, so he just continues brushing the horse. Willy watches for a moment, then puts his hand over Kyle’s, increasing the pressure.

“That’s not too hard for her?” Kyle asks, glancing down at the hooves. Her halter is hooked up so she probably can’t bite him, but he’s willing to bet a kick would hurt plenty. 

“It’s fine,” Willy says. “Just keep doing that, okay? I’ll groom her other side and then teach you how to pick her hooves.”

“Hold on, you want me to do what?” Kyle stops mid-brush, looking at the hooves again. They’re huge and look like they would hurt, especially with the force of such a big horse kicking him with one.

“It’s fine,” Willy promises. “I’ll show you, and she won’t kick you. I won’t break my favorite pitcher before spring training even starts.”

Willy grins, and Kyle can’t help but smile back, nerves be damned. He’s gotta trust his catcher, right? It’ll be fine.

\- - -

Holding a horse hoof and scraping mud—and probably horse shit—out of it isn’t exactly going to appear on Kyle’s list of favorite activities anytime soon, but it’s surprisingly not the worst thing ever. 

“Good girl,” Willy coos when Kyle sets the last hoof back down. He pats Pequeñita’s neck, reaching for the lead rope again. “I’ll bring her back and we can go see the rest of the ranch? It’s really pretty.”

“It’s really humid,” Kyle mutters, wiping the sweat from his brow. But he’s pitched in worse, so he smiles and nods and tentatively rubs Pequeñita’s nose. 

\- - -

Kyle can tell when they get close to the cows just by the smell. Not that he’s spent enough time around cows to really know what they smell like, but jeez. If he had to guess what a herd of cows smelled like, it would probably be something like this.

Willy introduces him to some of the ranch hands, and though Kyle catches like one in every three words of the Spanish, they all seem nice. Kyle’s really glad he doesn’t have to work with the cattle like they do. 

“C’mon, I wanna show you the pond,” Willy says, tugging on Kyle’s wrist after he’s gotten his full of saying hello to some of the cows. “No big scary animals there, promise.”

“I’m not scared of them,” Kyle defends. “I’m just...not used to them.”

“You’ll get used to them.” Willy pats his elbow, leading him down a well-worn path. ”Riding first thing tomorrow. But first, look.”

They step through a copse of trees, and there’s a cute little pond. Kyle’s grown used to Lake Michigan in his years as a Cub, but really he appreciates any body of water. This would be the perfect place to relax for a few hours and read a book, or just sit and talk with someone.

“It’s lovely,” he says, dropping onto one of the rocks next to the pond. “This whole ranch is gorgeous, Willy.”

“I love it,” Willy says softly, sitting down next to him. “I want one just like it, one day. I’d want one in Venezuela, but. You know.”

“I’m sorry.” Kyle nudges Willy’s foot with his, wishing he could offer more comfort. 

“It’s nice here, too,” Willy says softly. “And hopefully it’ll get better back home, one day.”

“Yeah.”

Willy doesn’t seem inclined to say much more, so Kyle just leaves his foot resting lightly against Willy’s, content to just sit with his teammate and appreciate the quiet.

\- - -

“Ready to go?” Willy’s practically bouncing on his heels the next morning once they’ve finished breakfast.

“I suppose.” He’d be lying if he said he was comfortable thinking about getting up on Pequeñita, but with Willy so excited… 

“It’ll be fun,” Willy says, grinning like he’s just thrown out a baserunner to end the inning. “I promise, I won’t let you die.”

“Really reassuring,” Kyle mutters, but he’s already following Willy out to the barn. It can’t be all bad, surely. Willy had said that Pequeñita was gentle. Hopefully that definition of gentle extends to people who have never been on a horse before, and not just experienced horsemen. 

“You remember how to groom her, right?” Willy asks once he’s led Pequeñita to the same place they’d groomed her yesterday.

“No,” Kyle mutters, but Willy’s already laughing and heading back down the aisle, presumably to get his own horse. He lets Pequeñita sniff his hand—his left hand, of course—then grabs a currycomb, trying to model exactly what he’d done yesterday. He must be doing something right, because the horse stands there silently and doesn’t try to murder him. 

He can hear Willy talking quietly in Spanish nearby as he grooms another horse. He kind of envies Willy’s easy companionship with the animals, because Willy doesn’t seem afraid of them in the slightest and Kyle doesn’t think he’ll ever stop worrying about getting kicked in the face. And while he’s thinking about getting kicked, there’s absolutely no way he’s going to pick the hooves without assistance.

Willy comes over when Kyle sticks his head out and beckons him over. He does roll his eyes at Kyle’s request but obliges before disappearing into a small room nearby. He returns with a saddle and blanket, as well as a few leather things, one of which Kyle assumes is a bridle.

“Time to learn how to tack up a horse,” he announces cheerfully, hanging the bridle up and setting the other things on the ground. Kyle eyes the pile warily, nonetheless moving closer to Pequeñita at Willy’s word. He’s fine with setting the blanket and saddle on her back, but when Willy ducks around to the other side to put on the cinch and tells Kyle to tighten it as much as possible, he balks.

“Won’t it hurt her? Or upset her?” Kyle asks, not risking a glance down at the huge hooves lest he give Pequeñita the idea of kicking him. According to his Google searches the night before, horses can see like twice as many degrees as humans, which is definitely not at all terrifying. Probably good for the horses to see danger while Kyle’s sitting on top of it, but he’s also hoping there’ll be nothing interesting for the horses to see and potentially freak out about while they’re riding.

“It doesn’t hurt her, and she’s used to it, I promise,” Willy says. “You gotta get it tight unless you wanna end up with an upside-down saddle. And I don’t think you’re gonna be able to hold on if that happens.”

“Sounds fun,” Kyle says sarcastically, pulling the cinch as tight as he can. Pequeñita, thankfully, does seem unbothered by him yanking it tight around her, and Willy steps back around to his side, patting her on the nose. 

“I’m gonna tack up my horse, then do your bridle,” Willy says, heading back for the room where he’d grabbed the first saddle from.

“Wait, wait,” Kyle says, grabbing his arm to halt him. “Can you check that it’s tight enough? I really don’t want to fall off.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Willy says, but he doubles back, sticking a finger under the cinch before yanking it a notch tighter. “There, no worries. You’re all good, Profe.”

“That remains to be seen,” Kyle says, more to Pequeñita than to Willy, as his catcher’s already gone back inside for his own saddle. 

“I won’t make you do the bit yourself,” Willy says once he’s saddled up his own horse. He grabs the bridle and unclips Pequeñita from the ropes and her halter, sliding a leather contraption onto her face. Kyle has no clue how all those straps are supposed to work, but Willy seems effortless in how he slips a finger in the horse’s mouth to get her to open up and does up the buckles. “Hold her for a minute,” he says, taking Kyle’s hands and demonstrating where to put them.

Kyle stands utterly still, feeling completely out of his depth. He wants to ask what he’s supposed to do if the horse tries to run away, but what if his voice startles her and she does exactly that?

“Alright, follow me!” Willy says a minute later, leading his own horse forwards and neglecting to give Kyle any sort of instruction in how exactly he’s supposed to do that.

Maybe Pequeñita’s smarter than he is, though, because she starts walking after Willy and his horse have passed, following them at a relatively sedate pace.

“Hey, Luis!” Willy shouts once they’re outside, gesturing to one of the guys leaning against a fence rail. They converse too rapidly in Spanish for Kyle to catch much of it, and Luis ends up coming over to hold Willy’s horse.

“What am I doing?” Kyle asks, feeling utterly out of the loop in both language and complete lack of horse knowledge. 

“Getting on,” Willy says, coming over to Kyle and Pequeñita. He takes the reins from Kyle, patting her neck a few times, and gestures at the stirrup. “Just put your foot in and swing over.”

“Uh huh,” Kyle mutters. It’s a long way up, and conversely, a long way down if he ends up face planting. Surely it’s no harder than starting Game 7 of the World Series for the Chicago Cubs, though, so he sticks his foot in the stirrup and hauls himself up.

He feels about a million feet tall and very precarious, perched on top of a giant horse like he is. Willy grins up at him and tosses the reins over Pequeñita’s head.

“Hold it like this,” he instructs, demonstrating. “And stick your heels down. Are the stirrups good length?”

“Uh…” How’s he supposed to have any clue what a good length for a stirrup is? He’s pretty sure it’s going to feel weird no matter how long they are.

“Here.” Willy eases Kyle’s foot out of the stirrup, reaching into the saddle and fiddling with something. He tugs the stirrup back down and replaces Kyle’s foot, then tugs at his ankle until Kyle’s heel is pointed appropriately downwards. The process is quickly repeated on the other side, then Willy pats his calf and heads back over to his own horse, getting up a lot more gracefully than Kyle thinks he looked.

Luis waves and offers Kyle luck in Spanish, which he does understand but isn’t quite sure that he wants to. He could be back in California right now, not risking his life by riding a horse that might want to kill him.

“Just kick him, and follow me!” Willy calls, tugging his hat down and getting his horse to move. Pushing down his trepidation, Kyle does as instructed, and Pequeñita starts into motion, massive body shifting beneath Kyle as she moves.

\- - -

Kyle thinks he might be starting to get the hang of this whole horse thing. Pequeñita’s rocky motion is starting to make it feel less like he’s about to tumble off, and though he’s pretty sure his legs are going to ache tomorrow, it’s kind of fun. Peaceful, in a way, to be just walking behind Willy, nothing more to pay attention to than the horse and the beautiful ranch around them. 

He’ll always be more of a beach person, himself, but he definitely understands now why this is Willy’s getaway place. It’s gorgeous and tranquil and has enough going on to keep his mind busy without cluttering it up. He could certainly see Willy settling down at a place like this in the future, once he’s won a few more rings and played in several more all-star games. 

“You know,” Kyle calls ahead to Willy. It’s harder to talk while riding than he’d thought it would be, though it’s not necessarily a bad thing. They have a whole week to spend together and talk as much as they like. “I gotta get you out to California at some point, take you surfing. Payback for making me ride a horse that’s even scarier than Lackey.”

“Next year!” Willy returns, but hauls up on his reins and moves to the side so Kyle and Pequeñita walk up right next to him. “But you need payback for something good. Hold tight!”

“Wait, wait!” Kyle protests, but Pequeñita is already moving from Willy’s touch, muscles bunching as she takes off at a clip far faster than a walk. “Willson!”

He clings on with his legs and the reins, staring straight ahead as the distance is eaten up too fast for him to be comfortable with. He sees out of the corner of his eye that Willy has sped up as well, falling into pace next to him.

“You’re the worst!” he shouts over the wind rushing in his ears, and he hears Willy laughing beside him. 

“You gotta live!” Willy yells back. “Just have fun!”

“Have fun, he says,” Kyle grumbles, but the wind steals his words as soon as he says them. And it is kind of fun, in an exhilarating, terrifying way. His heart is pounding and the wind feels good compared to the hot stickiness of the Florida air, and he laughs giddily to himself. Maybe in another world he could’ve done this instead of taking the path that he did. Not that he’d give up baseball for anything. It might’ve been an easier path, in a way, not being able to lose playoff games for his team and end just about every season in a failure. Because he’s got one professional success, really, and the offense might’ve lost it at the end of last season but he’s still the losing pitcher for their last loss of the season. Their season-ending loss. 

But he doesn’t have time to dwell on it more, because the ground is rushing up at him faster than he’d expected and he has just a split second to go limp and hope fervently that he doesn’t land on a rock or a snake.

“Kyle!” he hears Willy yell, and then all the air is knocked out of him as he hits the ground, hard.

He groans once he has his breath back, taking stock of his body. He’s aching with the sting of an unexpected fall, but there’s no sharp pain and nothing feels broken. He braces himself and sits up, relieved when his body doesn’t explode into pain.

“Kyle!” Willy calls out again, jumping down from his saddle and leading both of their horses over. “You hurt?”

“Just bruised, I think.” Kyle shakes his head a few times to clear it, glancing around the ground for his sunglasses. They’re somehow still in one piece, so he puts them back on and gets carefully to his feet. “Not my finest moment.”

Willy still looks worried, brow pinched and eyes sweeping over Kyle as if he can see any damage just by looking.

“I’m okay,” Kyle assures him. “Nothing hurts much. Is Pequeñita okay?”

“She spooked at something, but she’s calm now.” Willy pats her neck a few times. “I’m sorry. We should head back now, probably.”

“To check her out?” Kyle asks, dusting himself off and walking over to the horses.

“No, for you.” Willy’s gaze sweeps over him again, concern thicker than the humid air all around them.

“No!” Kyle’s surprised by his own vehemence, and Willy’s eyebrows shoot up as well. “You were taking us somewhere, right? I’m fine, I want to still go. Isn’t there a saying about getting back in the saddle, anyways?”

Willy shrugs, though some of the lines around his eyes ease a bit. “If you’re sure…”

“I am,” Kyle insists, squaring his shoulders and steadfastly not thinking about the nerves churning in his stomach at the thought of getting back up there and maybe falling off again. He’s not afraid of a little fall. Although maybe a helmet might not be the worst investment.

“Sorry, girl,” he murmurs to Pequeñita when he clambers back on. “I’ll pay better attention next time.”

She nickers quietly, and he pats her neck. He can feel the weight of Willy’s worried gaze on him, all too familiar from concern when games start to go sideways or when Kyle’s hurting. This is just sitting on a horse, though. Kyle’s capable of doing that much.

\- - -

They spend another hour out riding, and Willy doesn’t try to get him to go faster again. It takes Kyle pushing for a good fifteen minutes before Willy agrees to let them cross the last field back to the ranch at a slow trot. The more jolting gait doesn’t do any good for the aches starting to make themselves known, though hopefully it might do a little something to ease Willy’s sense of guilt over the whole thing. 

“Sit for a minute,” Willy calls when they get back to where they’d originally mounted up. He hops down and ties the reins of his horse to a fence post that’s probably there just for that purpose. “Get down careful,” he warns when he comes over to hold Kyle’s horse. 

“Yeah, I’m good on the falling for today,” Kyle mutters, swinging himself off the horse carefully. He lands on his feet a little harder than expected but hides his grimace so Willy won’t feel worse than he does already. 

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Willy asks, starting to tug Pequeñita over to where his horse is.

“Fine, really. I can take her back into the barn.” Willy waves him off, concern still marring his features. 

“Get out of the heat, lie down a little,” he suggests. “Was a hard fall.”

“Alright, yeah,” Kyle agrees. He could do with some Advil and air conditioning right about now, even if nothing really hurts enough to warrant a complaint. “I had fun, though. Definitely be down to go out again tomorrow.”

“See how you’re feeling tomorrow first,” Willy says over his shoulder, a grin that says he’s had his own share of experience with this painted over his features. 

\- - -

“Hey, Profe,” Willy greets him when Kyle makes his way down for lunch, feeling stiff and sore and achy. He glances up from where he’s slicing bread and does a double take when he sees Kyle. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, I uh. Think I forgot sunscreen,” Kyle says, resisting the urge to rub the back of his neck where he knows he’s got a lovely sunburn spreading out. 

“You think?” Willy asks, and he still looks a little horrified but also like he’s trying not to crack up.

“You can laugh,” Kyle says as he slumps onto one of the barstools. “I look like a goddamn lobster.”

“Gonna have to change your nickname to Tomato Man.” Willy snickers at his own joke but sets aside his lunch preparations to lean over the counter near Kyle. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Kyle rolls his eyes, more annoyed at himself than anything. “I packed some aloe, I’ll just slather that on later and be more careful. I really should’ve known better.”

“Probably,” Willy agrees with a grin. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone that bright red.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” Kyle punches his shoulder lightly so Willy doesn’t think he’s really mad and goes to the fridge, pulling out deli meats and condiments for sandwiches.

“Swimming this afternoon?” Willy asks, sliding two slices of bread over to Kyle as they both start to put together their sandwiches. 

Kyle swears that his burned skin actually cools down a bit at just the thought of submerging himself in water. And his still-aching muscles from the fall would probably enjoy a swim as well.

\- - -

“Hey, thank you so much for inviting me out,” Kyle says, hugging Willy tightly. “It was really great to get a break from everything and just relax.”

“I’m glad you could come,” Willy says with a smile, “Tomato Man.”

Kyle shakes his head, trying and probably failing to keep the fondness off his face. Despite his best efforts and careful application of sunscreen after the first day, he’d gotten more sunburned just about every day. Clearly he wasn’t made for the Florida sun while horseback riding and swimming every day.

“That nickname better die by the time Spring Training starts,” Kyle warns him. “The world at large doesn’t need to know me by my inability to keep myself from getting sunburned.”

“What about your inability to ride a horse without falling?” Willy teases. “You’ll lose your cred as an athlete.”

“I still maintain that there’s no correlation between playing baseball and riding a horse. And besides, how many baseball fans are also invested in horses?”

“There’s gotta be some.” Willy comes back in for another hug. “You’re always welcome to visit while I’m here if you want. And text me when you get back to California?”

“Will do,” Kyle agrees. “I’ll see you pretty soon for spring training, too! We can take on the season with riding skills that definitely will make me a better ballplayer.”

“Shut up, you had fun.” Willy grins. “But go, you don’t want to miss your flight.”

“I know, I know.” Kyle digs his phone out of his pocket to pull up his boarding pass. “I’ll text you!”

Willy’s smiling and waving when Kyle glances at him, and though Kyle’s sunburned face aches, he smiles back. Maybe he will have to take Willy up on his offer in the future, get back in the saddle. After all, if he can win a World Series with the Chicago Cubs, he can definitely become a decent horseback rider.


End file.
